


Aspirin

by timetosin



Category: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: F/M, Female Reader, Hostage Situation, Peter B Parker-freeform, Post-Movie, Reader-Insert, hooking up with the hot dilf, no y/n, slowburn kind of, smut later on, the sex and all the good stuff that comes with it, very long one shot, you're pining for everyone's favorite dilf, you've heard of hot roommate now get ready for you're the hot pharmacist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 11:57:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17202989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timetosin/pseuds/timetosin
Summary: "Suddenly and unexpectedly he turned his head towards the pharmacy desk, much too quick for you to realize in time to stop staring and pick up your body from its leaning position on the counter. Oh god, what the hell he never looked over here, he usually just took his aspirin and slumped out of the store.Had he caught you staring?Your eyes locked with his for a moment too long and his expression changed from neutral to a smug knowing smirk. He raised his brows and you watched his pupils flick up and down over your figure."





	Aspirin

Calculate, measure, bag, and tag, and make sure to smile through all of it.

You didn’t think you’d end up being a typical pharmacist in a small CVS in Brooklyn but that pesky self-doubt and anxiety didn’t exactly keep your hands steady enough to be a surgeon. Exam scores and determination didn’t stop you from wanting to hurl when faced with seeing an unconscious human split open during shadowing, so this would do for now. One day, maybe, you’d go into synthesis but this experience was necessary and you were _important_.

You were not a failure, you simply were taking some time and using all that lovely small liberal arts college lab knowledge in the “real world”.

You tried to believe this as customers would insist, they needed a refill despite the fact their doctor had put in no order and their eyes were slightly off.

No, Brooklyn wasn’t the easiest city to be involved in the medicinal industry but this is where your family was from and you loved the people despite their more than slight dependence on painkillers. The store was quiet, the same playlist of non-offending pop music floated through the air, and you had a good hour before your shift ended and Francis was going to take over.

A few moments passed until the obnoxious ding signaled a customer was entering the store and you lifted your head out of habit.

You recognized his worn in converse before even seeing the rest of him, it was the same man who came in almost every day for about three months to buy more and more aspirin. If you had actually become a doctor you were more than sure you’d have to treat him for hemorrhaging with how much aspirin he bought. Despite the fact this man was worn in and potentially bulk selling aspirin, which silly but alright New York, he was lowkey the highlight of your long workdays.

Leaning over the counter in the least obvious way you could your eyes soaked him up.

He didn’t win any awards for being the best dressed in his grey sweatpants and blue tee but you found him to be adequate eye candy nonetheless. His physique wasn’t modelesque, but he had great biceps, he was tall, and you found his small pudding gut to be endearing. The most attractive thing about him by far was his face, he had the crooked nose side profile of a Grecian statue, those large sad eyes, and five o clock shadow.

You liked to think he said ‘Fuck’ a lot.

Suddenly and unexpectedly he turned his head towards the pharmacy desk, much too quick for you to realize in time to stop staring and pick up your body from its leaning position on the counter. Oh god, what the hell he never looked over here, he usually just took his aspirin and slumped out of the store.

Had he caught you staring?

Your eyes locked with his for a moment too long and his expression changed from neutral to a smug knowing smirk. He raised his brows and you watched his pupils flick up and down over your figure.

Shit.

Your cheeks immediately flooded with heat and you knew they were definitely flushed pink. Shooting up quicker than necessary you snapped your gaze away from the man in the aisle and snatched up a lone pen on the counter and stared down at a blank customer fill out sheet for as long as you could.

When you glanced back up, he was gone.

* * *

 

“Ma’am?”

Turning away from the computer and giving your attention to the man standing in front of the counter you readied your customer service voice.

“Hello, how can I help you today?”

Your words softened at the end of the sentence when you turned to see an attractive man dressed in a grey suit who was eerily familiar. It took your brain a moment to realize it but it was aspirin guy, granted his hair was cut, he was closely shaven, and his hazel eyes were bright and anew, but it was him nonetheless.

You were surprised, you hadn’t seen him come in at all for almost two maybe three weeks now, and here he was a brand-new man almost.

 “Just here to pick up a prescription for Mary Jane Watson.”

Oh.

His lips curled into a large grin at just the mention of her name and unwillingly your stomach churned just the slightest in something resembling jealously. You had no rhyme or reason to be jealous so you banished the very thought from your mind. As he reached into his wallet to pull out his ID you saw the flashing golden band encasing his left hand, had that always been there?

Accepting the plastic card from his outreached hand you made sure to avoid brushing your fingers with his.

Peter B. Parker.

Nice to meet you.

Typing in the name pulled up the file confirming the approved pick up substitute was, in fact, him, the digitized letters revealed the prescription and after placing his ID back on the counter you walked back towards the medications.

A prescription for fertility pills, of course.

 After reviewing the paperwork, fulfilling the prescription, and bagging the orange bottle up you slipped them into the bag before stapling it closed. You couldn’t pin down why you felt so bitter now aware that the man you ogled for so long was married but you could do your best to just push it further down.

Returning to the counter you gently placed the bag down in front of him.

“Mr. Parker?”

Upon hearing his name, he looked up from his phone and smiled with all pearly white straight teeth at you. Without meaning to his eyes flickered to your face and your eyes met, his smile faltered before returning with its shining glory as if he was actually seeing you for the first time throughout the whole interaction. The glance he took at your name tag displayed on your lab coat was noted but you pushed the thought aside.

You pushed the bag further across the counter and forced a polite smile.

As seeming to remember why he was there he took a step back as he accepted the small bag and gripped with all the hope he could muster.

“Thank you, ma’am, have a good day.”

The mysterious Mr. Parker turned briskly and practically skipped his way out. You sighed softly before turning your attention back to the task you were taking care of before he arrived.

“Good luck."

* * *

 After a few submissions of resumes for experimental synthesis labs, a short-lived two-month fling, and binge-watching the news as Spider-man had become increasingly active, Peter B. Parker returned to your pharmacy.

You were resisting the urge to check your phone as you had an upcoming date in approximately three hours when the bell chimed.

Peter walked or rather limped in, sweat-clad once more, and with dark circles under his eyes. Furling your brows, you moved behind the computer so you could observe without confrontation as he fulfilled his previous routine. His bare left hand reached out for a bottle of aspirin and you frowned.

It was none of your business anyway.

You returned your attention to the computer as he disappeared down the aisle.

* * *

 

“Hands in the air!”

Why were you surprised, you lived in New York, after all, in fact, you should be more surprised this is the first time you’ve been in a robbery.

Your hands shot up embarrassingly fast as did your coworkers and the twenty or so customers in the store. You hoped one of the clerks had pressed the emergency button amongst the drama and stepped out from behind the drug counter as you were instructed. Despite all of your online humor, you preferred to die in your sleep preferably much older.

“On the ground!”

The group of five robbers barked out at you and the others and it was almost comical how stereotypically dressed they were in all black clothing with ski masks. You were in the process of getting onto your knees when a rough hand wrapped around your elbow.

“Hah, not you drug bitch. You’re going to show us where the good stuff is first.”

Fuck.

You swore the masked man almost gave you whiplash with how rough he yanked you from the ground and you couldn’t help the fearful laughter as a barrel of a gun was pointed in between your eyes.

“Wh-what exactly are you looking for?”

The pressure of the barrel on your skin increased as the robber leered. You couldn’t fight back even if you wanted to at this point, you didn’t want your mom to bury the lower half of your body, you were donating your brain to science. If death was nothing but blackness you were definitely not ready and no morbid curiosity was hungry enough to risk that bullet going into your skull.

“Use your pretty little brain of yours before I paint the floor with it.”

Leaning away from the gun you gulped as large hands shoved you forward, you reached out to the counter for support hoping the sound of sirens would arrive sooner than later. Scrambling for balance and for speed purposes you moved towards the medications in the back.

Behind you several shouts were heard followed by a flurry of shots, instinctively you whirled around, bumping into the gun somewhat pressed against your spine. Turning around you caught sight of red and blue, people scrambling for cover, and your friendly neighborhood spider single-handedly dodging quite a bit of gunfire.

You really should have sprinted away during this incoming or when the assailant in charge of you flinched at the sound of sirens outside.

Unfortunately, you had not and now you are said hostage of the lovely hostage and negotiation process with the gun once again pressed so hard against your skull you felt tears pricking your eyes. The remaining and wobbling two robbers position their weapons at Spider-Man as he stands one hand outreaching for you and speaking slowly and calmly.

“Hey, hey, hey no need for that buddy.”

Seeing Spider-Man in action is so much cooler when you’re not there, not begging and praying to a deity you haven’t prayed to in several years, and in a choke hold so tight your fucking eyesight is blurring out of lack of air.

“Oh, there is a need, you can escort us safely out of here money and drugs in hand, or the bitch dies.”

Your hands immediately fly up to the man’s arm wrapped around your throat, against better judgment you try to pull from his hold but it only tightens. Nervously you begin to ramble choking out words trying to also join in on the gambling of your life.

“O-Or you could let me go! No need for me here hah, I’ll be out of your way-”

The man ignores you prompting instead to remove the barrel from your head for a moment before pointing it directly at a teenager pressed against an aisle and pulling the trigger. A scream fills the air and the air of the room shifts, you press your eyes closed tighter and try to block out the teen’s wails. On one hand, you’re glad he didn’t shoot to kill as you hear the other hostages shuffle and the kid screaming ‘he shot my hand, he fucking shot my hand’. The barrel has returned to your head in seconds.

“I’m not playing around, Spider-Man.”

You can feel yourself begin to tremble as you now desperately scrape away at the arm squeezing your jugular tighter.

“I can see that.”

Spider-Man is closer than he was before.

The door suddenly is thrown open as officers in full protective gear flood in and you hope they will disarm the remaining robbers. You can hear the click of a gun in preparation to fire next to your ear you squeeze your eyes shut as hard as you can, God please let it be painless.

The next minute flies by so fast and the absence of smothering pressure around your neck is gone so fast you wonder if you died.

Shouts and sirens so loud that you wince away fill your ears and you are thrown against a body, arms now around your waist instead of your throat surround you, and you re-open your eyes to find yourself off the ground hanging. For a moment you wonder if you’re a ghost and search for your body but find none.

“I got you, sweetheart.”

Spider-Man’s voice is tired and now aware you are in fact still alive and a good twenty feet from the concrete ground frantically wrap your limbs around him to hold on. His grip on you is tight, muscles constricting around your middle, you’re squeezing onto him so tightly you squeeze his pudgy lower abdomen.

You’re stuck with the desire to laugh and cry all at the same time as you look down at the police and EMT’s spilling through the front door and your captor is sprawled unconscious on his back with a wicked web over his face. You go limp in Spider-Man’s hold exhausted.

“Fucking hell.”

It’s a whisper from your lips.

His body rumbles as he chuckles and gently lowers the two of you to the ground where an EMT rushes toward you. You stumble when your feet meet solid ground again and you almost miss his quirky little comment.

“Come here often?”

You shake your head unable to stop the smile that spreads across your face in disbelief, the EMT is softly guiding you away as you step backward looking Spider-Man head on.

“More than I’d like to.”

He stands there in place and you can feel his gaze boring into your back as you are supported by the EMT’s out of the crime scene. Everything seems to go quiet, you can still feel the ghostly pressure of his arms around you and the pressure on your throat later that night.

* * *

 

Your eyes glazed over majority of the bottles in the tiny corner shop, the clock chimed with the change of the hour to eleven somewhere behind you, and you rubbed your neck. Technically you could have gone anywhere to buy aspirin, if you were feeling up to it you could have synthesized it yourself it would have been purer, but you were taking a few days to mentally recuperate.

Living alone in an apartment ten minutes away from the pharmacy was never unnerving until after the event.

Now you peeked over your shoulder every few minutes, called your mom with a new appreciation for her parenting at least once a day, and pet your cat so much you think she’s hiding from you. Bringing yourself back to reality you reached out to grab a bottle of aspirin when in your peripheral another hand reaches out at the same moment.

The stranger’s and your hands meet in the middle in a distracted bump.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry”

You’re apologizing before they can finish their apology.

“I’m sorry, go ahead.”

When the two of you turn to continue the most non-New York native apology battle, you find yourself standing in the closest proximity you can to Peter B. Parker. It’s the worst time for your little hopeless crush to come rushing back for the (married?) Aspirin guy but that doesn’t stop you. He smiles and opens his mouth to speak as you’re blinking up at him like an idiot.

“Uh, do we know each other? You seem really familiar.”

Yeah, he’s bought aspirin while you’ve ogled him for far too long, but he probably just recognizes you from the news though. Oh well, you’re not going back to the job after the robbery and one of the companies offered you a position in their synthesis lab so in a way you expose yourself.

“I mean I work, well used to work at the CVS down on 9th street. I probably fulfilled a prescription for you…”

“Yeah.”

An awkward silence fills the air between you two and as you begin to turn away and let your fantasy go after all this time he speaks again.

“I’m uh, I’m Peter. Peter Parker.”

He offers you his outstretched hand to shake and you take it. His large left hand engulfs yours and you feel no trace of metal on it, you feel your cheeks heat up and you wish you didn’t blush so easily.

“Nice to meet you, I’m-”

He laughs interrupting you.

“I know your name, you were the pharmacist for a long time. I bought a lot of aspirin there…”

Oh?

It’s his turn to blush, but on his face, it’s less obvious. You’re still shaking hands, you want to pull your clammy palm out of his but you forget to. He looks so much better up close, expressive hazel eyes peering back at you and handsome face contorted in a grin. When your hand finally falls from his, your mind is racing with anticipation.

There’s nothing else to say though, so you nod quietly and give him the subtlest look over you can.

“Well, it was nice to see you, Peter.”

Peter nods as well and a tuff of his hair falls in front of his eyes.

“Hey, uh, since we are both needing some aspirin would you want to go get some coffee with me to swallow it down?”

You can’t stop the giddy, stupid, annoying smile from spreading on your face.

“Yeah, sure, I’m down.”

* * *

 

You didn’t really like coffee, you knew this.

So how you went out to get coffee with Peter four times in the span of a week and a half was beyond you. Maybe it was because when you drank coffee while watching Peter you couldn’t taste it because you were too focused on what he would taste like. When he drank coffee, he liked it boiling hot, black, and usually with some sort of sweet.

He was sarcastic and bitter and incredibly sexy when you two would walk back towards your apartment and he would complain.

It felt good to combine your negative energy and bark together at rude strangers who bumped into you two as a team.

Peter was also uncharacteristically sweet, especially when he talked about his Aunt May or his favorite pizzeria and the Italian family who owned it. He didn’t particularly enjoy talking about Spider-Man, he wasn’t impressed when you told him he saved you, he was interested though in your comment that you believed Spider-Man flirted with you once.

“And did you like it? Did you flirt back?”

He questioned while finishing off his bagel at the steps to his apartment complex since you insisted on walking him back for once. You peered up at him holding onto the rail and leaning back on your heels.

“As best I could after being held at gunpoint. Who doesn’t have a crush on Spider-Man?”

Peter smirked like he knew something you didn’t but you just rolled your eyes back at him.

“I don’t know, he’s gotten kind of fat, hasn’t he?”

You laughed before raising a brow at Peter’s belly.

“You’re one to talk.”

He stops laughing and glares at you a moment before placing a hand over his gut lovingly. Mid-laugh you notice he’s staring at you like he adores you or something. Your heart skips a bit and you force it back down, his next words actually stop your heart though.

“Why don’t you come upstairs.”

Peter’s already halfway up the steps and you skip up them after him.

* * *

 

Coffee doesn’t always mean sex, but when it does, it is one hell of a good time.

The click of him locking the door he’s pressed you up against makes you lose your train of thought; his cold hands slip under your shirt as he leans down to capture your lips with his own. He kisses you thoroughly like you’re his salvation, he sticks his tongue deep in your throat and he grins against your mouth when you whine.

Wandering hands along your back and ribcage cause shivers to go down your spine as you desperately claw him closer, you always want him closer.

Your hands are in his hair pulling and begging and he is more than happy to oblige, his searing kisses are wet and sloppy as they trail down your jaw to your neck and collarbone. Peter shoves your shirt up and off shoving it to the ground as he yanks both of your legs to wrap around his waist.

His cock is solid and insistent against your core as he grinds you deeper into the door, you can’t stop the hiss that leaves your lips and you scratch along his bare back.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, you don’t even know.”

His voice is muffled in your hair and you smile against his ear.

“Show me then.”

Peter takes no time to carry you from the cluttered living room to his sheetless mattress and toss you down. You laugh as he struggles out of his sweatpants and you’re in the middle of ripping off your jeans and throwing your bra aside. He can’t wait for you to finish getting your jeans off and yanks them off your ankles, he climbs over you once more and continues kissing you on every inch of skin he can.

His kisses trail down your chest until he greedily catches one nipple in his mouth and sucks eliciting a gasp from you. You can feel him touching everywhere and you find yourself begging and pleading for more, you were never a very vocal lover but he’s all-encompassing and you want to drown in his attention. Peter’s kisses trail further down as he peppers your hips with attention and your spread thighs. He hums before settling on a plush part of your inner thigh to suck.

“Please, Peter. Please, I can’t wait-”

Your plea is cut off by his nose brushing along the wet fabric of your panty. His long fingers loop the fabric discarding of them as he makes himself comfortable between your thighs. He’s an enthusiastic and greedy eater as he buries his whole face in as if you’re his last meal. Peter’s tongue laps bring you closer and closer to ecstasy as you moan loudly and grind yourself back onto his face.

He always looks so damn sexy, but he looks the best eating you out.

Lacing your fingers in his hair and pulling in deeper he lavishes your wet core and growls so hard it makes you curl up in pleasure. Peter pulls back a moment to slip two fingers into you and kisses back up your body to your lips as he curls them inside of you. You’re wet and slick and usually, you’d be embarrassed by the sound but it feels too good to focus on. His bicep goes taut as he finger-fucks you so hard your body bounces on the mattress.

He dominates you in kisses his expression crazed with lust as you try to manage out more than a squeak.

“Are you ready, fuck, do you want it, baby?”

You let out a pathetic groan before forcefully nodding and staring at him with a needy expression.

“Y-Yes, please fuck me.”

With your consent, he removes his soaking fingers and you crave for the full feeling once more, lining up. Peter pushes his cock in taking great pleasure in the way your face contorts and your eyes roll back until he hits his base. You grunt at the slight stretch when he’s fully inside and adjust yourself to wrap your legs around his waist, both heels digging into his lower spine.

He pauses for a moment panting and looks at your face not moving until you nod.

“Please…”

Peter’s smirks but you can tell he’s on the brink of losing his control.

“Please who?”

Using your heels to press him deeper you pull a deep groan from him.

“Please Peter…”

His hips snap up as he thrusts strong and slow. Every thrust takes the breath out of you and you let out explicitly dirty moans laced with his name. He takes his time as best he can but his rhythm becomes more frantic and soon, you’re clinging to him frantically as he pounds into you. Peter’s deep voice grumbles in your ear making you shudder and the sound of skin slapping skin fills the room.

His hand comes down in between you two to desperately rub your clit and you find yourself wincing with how close you are.

Your orgasm washes over you much quicker than you wanted it to but it’s hard and blinding. You don’t recognize you’ve shouted through it until you hear it echoed in your ears and your spine curls up as your nails drag down his back leaving passionate red lines. Peter holds you through it, biting your shoulder harshly and bucking his hips a few more times before pulling himself out.

His teeth clash against yours as your hand finds his cock in between your bodies and you stroke him to his climax. He cums onto your stomach with a gentle wail and the expression of a man who has touched the clouds.

“Oh my fucking god…”

Peter spits the sentence out as he clutches the sheets with white-knuckled fists before collapsing by your side.

The two of you lay on your backs staring up at the cracked ceiling panting heavily doing your best to catch your breath. After a few minutes, he rolls over on his side kissing your cheeks over and over again before slipping off the bed to pull on his sweatpants.

You find the beat-up comforter and drag it off the floor onto the bed before stretching and slipping your hand under one of his few pillows. Pulling the comforter over your sweaty body you smile at him and his pudgy belly as he stretches out, your hands coming in contact with something latex under his pillow.

“You want some water, sweetheart?”

Your brows furl in confusion as you pull out the mysterious fabric under the pillow. In your hand, a well-used Spider-Man mask meets the open air between you two. Your eyes go wide as you turn to look back at Peter his expression mirroring yours.

“Peter…What the fuck?”

Peter stares back at you panicked.

“Uh…cosplay?”


End file.
